Page 5

An icy blast of air hit Boone as soon as he entered the room, momentarily dampening his rage and silencing the ranting in his head. It was short-lived. Nothing could bring down the pure venom pumping through him. What had West been thinking? Had he been thinking at all?

The amount of shit he’d now leveled on all of their heads over what was supposed to be a simple exercise in empathy was almost comical. Boone had spent the entire walk to the computer room picturing strangling the man until his eyes popped out of his head like a cartoon character.

He looked around the security office. He hadn’t been in the room more than twice since the school opened. The far wall was made up of screens, all the same uniform size, most of them cycling through security camera footage, showing the school’s interior from various vantage points. To his left was a locked door with a keypad and an ocular scanner. Behind that door sat an enormous bank of air-gapped servers—far more than any school would need. Even one that specialized in training spies.

The servers had been Kendrick’s idea. He’d used them to store yottabytes worth of sensitive information. Government secrets. Black ops shit. Stuff that would be dangerous in the wrong hands. These servers were totally self-contained, unreachable from the outside world. Kendrick had justified this by saying the enemy couldn’t steal what they couldn’t find. While, theoretically, that was true, Boone hated to think Kendrick had been right about anything. Ever.

Beneath the bank of monitors was a large white desk with three office chairs. To the right, there was a cheap plastic table covered with coffee spills, mugs, and a state of the art coffee maker that would probably take a three-hour seminar for Boone to operate. Other than that, the room was eerily empty, the bare walls covered in decorative gray tiles meant to dampen the sound of the servers in the next room.

West sat at the desk beneath the wall of monitors. He wore a pair of sweatpants and a black t-shirt, his hair damp and glasses perched on his nose. He should have been in classes by now, not hunched over a keyboard in a dimly-lit room, frantically typing away. Boone turned his attention to the two screens not cycling through security footage, watching as code scrolled past far too quickly for Boone to make out. Not that he’d know what the hell he was looking at anyway.

West didn’t acknowledge him, clearly too engrossed in whatever it was he was doing. He looked possessed, the print from the screen casting strange shadows onto his skin as it sped down the screen.

He didn’t acknowledge Boone’s entrance until Boone snapped, “What the fuck did you do?”

The way West startled told Boone he’d been far too engrossed in his own work to even realize he wasn’t alone. What was he planning now? Was this all part of a more elaborate plan? There had to be some reason why West would go so far away from the original plan. Boone didn’t even want to contemplate that.

The man spun in his chair, giving him an incredulous look. “You think I did that?”

Boone stopped short. What the fuck did that mean? Who else would have done it?

He said as much. “This lesson was your idea.”

West snorted. “The lesson was Suri’s idea. I just helped her implement it. Besides, we wanted this to be a lesson, not a character assassination. Did you see that shit? You think I would use one of our students being drugged and possibly assaulted as a way to set an example? I know they’re not children, but even I wouldn’t start with something so…over the top.”

“You didn’t do this?” Boone said, more just to let the knowledge settle than anything else.

His rage at West’s over-the-top stunt was morphing quickly into concern. If West didn’t do this, who the fuck did…and how? And, more importantly, why?

“No, of course not. We were gonna start small. A gossip website with blind items, a leaked clip of Remi selling that file but without showing his face. The whole point of the exercise was to give the students time to speculate, to accuse, to turn on each other or to rally behind each other. After a couple of weeks, we’d use the experiment as a teaching moment. Show them how easy it is to manipulate information to influence others. We wanted a slowly leaking poison, not an atom bomb.”

Remi. He was the real victim in all this. Had he actually been assaulted? Was any of that real? Clearly, the sale of the file was, but what about the rest? Who could have done this? And why? How? To what end? The only person this video truly hurt was Remi. Boone had helped hand-pick every one of the students in this school. Short of Gift, Boone couldn’t think of anyone less problematic than Remi.

What the fuck was going on?

Boone shook his head as he deflated, dropping into the empty seat beside West’s, scrubbing his hands over his face. A million questions raced through his mind. Had Navy actually drugged Remi? It certainly looked that way. Had those men assaulted him? He hadn’t looked under duress, but Boone could think of at least half a dozen drugs that would make Remi appear to be a willing participant.

The thought had acid burning its way up his esophagus. It was his job to protect these students, adults or not. Had Remi only had that encounter because he was under the influence? Who were those men? Where had this assault taken place? It certainly hadn’t happened on campus. Was any of it even real?

The security footage had to be real, right?

Boone wasn’t technologically dense, but he didn’t understand half the shit that—person?—in the video had talked about. Deep fake? Manipulation? Was it possible to create a person out of thin air? Manipulate an image where it looked like a living breathing human wearing someone else’s face? It must be. He vaguely remembered hearing about some celebrities falling victim to it.

Boone sighed, feeling every bit his age. “You didn’t create that video?”

West sighed, shaking his head. “It’s not that easy.”

There was a single rap of knuckles and the sound of a badge being swiped before the door burst open, Mac and Archer barreling inside without invitation, Suri and Justice hot on their heels, all of them looking like they wanted an explanation…or bloodshed. They stopped short when they saw Boone was also in attendance. For a moment, they all just stared at each other, then Suri turned on West, brown eyes blazing with fury.

“What the fuck was that? That’s not at all what we agreed upon last night,” Suri snapped, staring West down. “Are you crazy?”

Before West could answer, Justice chimed in, “That was completely unnecessary. How could you show something like that to the entire school? Do you have any idea the trauma that could cause to an assault victim?”

Suri leaned against the table that held the coffee maker, crossing her arms over her chest, her flowy orange dress covering all but her toes.

“Yeah, I never would have agreed to something like this,” Mac added. “What the fuck, man?”

Archer shook his head. “Has anyone even checked on Remi?”

Boone sighed. “Pike has eyes on him. He’s in his room and refusing to speak to anyone.”

Suri began to pace a circle around the room. “I wouldn’t be surprised if he leaves the program after this,” she muttered.

“I fucking hope not,” West said. “His skills are next level. He’s far better than me. If we lose him, that will be a crime.”

“If he leaves, it’s nobody’s fault but your own,” Justice reminded him quietly, still seething.

West jumped to his feet. “Stop blaming me for this. The only part I played was pulling the footage of Remi from the bar parking lot. And it was never supposed to go into any kind of video. Suri saw it.”

They all looked to Suri, who reluctantly nodded.

West shook his head. “I hadn’t even set up the message board yet. This whole thing was still in the planning stages. Whoever sent this hijacked it and altered it.”

“Why would you use Remi? He’s already kind of an outsider,” Mac said.

West scoffed. “Remi is— was —the perfect target. I even asked his permission. I knew he’d understand the point of the assignment. The whole point was to never confirm it was Remi in the video, we just had to heavily imply it. He has a very vocal group of supporters in Peregrine pod, and Park and Gift would look out for him as well.” West huffed, voice pleading as he said, “I’m sure the kid thinks I betrayed him, but this wasn’t me.”

“You’re saying someone hacked your files and altered the thing?” Justice asked.

“I don’t know,” West answered. “This system is supposed to be unhackable.”

“And the Titanic was supposed to be unsinkable,” Mac muttered.

“And Remi knew this was coming?” Archer asked.

“Yes,” West snapped. “That’s what I’m saying.”

“I’m sure he wasn’t expecting this . Poor kid,” Suri murmured.

“How could this happen?” Boone asked, looking at West.

“Look, I don’t know. That’s what I’ve been sitting here trying to figure out. Someone knew the clip of Remi existed on the server. Someone knew we planned to use it for something. That means one of us did this or someone is spying on us. I don’t know which one is more disturbing.”

Boone didn’t either. Having another bad egg in their midst was disturbing. Having someone else—a student or an outsider—spying on them was catastrophic.

Before Boone could ask West about next steps, there was a timid, barely-there knock on the door. For a moment, nobody moved, then Archer seemed to remember himself, walking to the door and opening it. Remi. Boone would have been less surprised to find a unicorn standing there. It was like their talk had conjured him out of thin air.

When the boy entered, he stopped short, eyes wide, as he took in the group of teachers. “I can come ba?—”

“No,” West shouted, startling the boy. “No, come in,” he added, far more gently this time.

It was clear Remi had been crying. His eyes were red and swollen. At some point, he’d swapped his uniform for faded baggy jeans and an even baggier black sweatshirt with a pair of glittery black high-top Chuck Taylors. It was hard to believe he was twenty-three years old. He had an almost child-like appearance when he was upset like this.

“Why did you do that?” Remi asked West, his look of betrayal warranted as far as Boone was concerned. “You said you wouldn’t show my face. You said I wouldn’t be referenced directly.”

West shook his head before Remi even finished speaking. “I didn’t. Someone must have…hacked our system.”

Remi blinked at him, dumbfounded. “What?”

“It’s the only explanation,” West said, shaking his head again like the idea was unfathomable.

“No way,” Remi countered. “Those servers are impenetrable.”

He didn’t wait for an acknowledgement, just crossed the room and dropped into the empty seat between Boone and West, spinning the chair around to face the monitors. He didn’t ask for or wait for anyone’s permission. His fingers flew over the keys, easily accessing their system, then sifting through their system files like he worked there.

They all watched as screen after screen appeared and disappeared. Even West sat silently, a slight smile on his lips as he watched the boy work.

“There. Look,” Remi said. “The breach was internal. See this? This is a log of network access permissions from last night.”

West shook his head. “Our files are locked up tight. Fort Knox tight. Alcatraz tight.”

“People have escaped from both,” Mac reminded glibly.

“You’d need administrative privileges to access them,” West countered.

Remi looked at him like he was stupid. “That’s what I’m saying. Whoever did this didn’t smash in the front door. They had a fucking key. They were already inside the system.”

“One of our own people did this?” Suri asked, glancing at Boone.

Archer shrugged. “It makes sense when you consider that whoever did this had enough access to know about our plans.”

“And enough knowledge to create that monstrosity of a video in mere hours,” Mac added. “But how?”

Remi glanced around the room. “Think about it. You can lock your house, but if you give your neighbor a spare key, is it really that secure? They could do anything they want with it, all you have is the covenant between you and them that they won’t exploit your trust.”

“Who has the knowledge to do this?” Boone asked.

“Knowledge or access?” Remi said. “As far as access goes, West and most of the staff have access if they know where to look. But that’s not what’s important. Who here would have the knowledge needed to do what they did? To not only create a backdoor into the server but to then create a deep fake video that looked that realistic?”

“It’s the video that really drives home how sophisticated this ‘Lady Watchtower’ person is. Creating a deep fake video isn’t easy. How many people in this school could do that?” West asked.

“Up until this morning,” Remi said, “I thought the answer was just me.”

“You know how to make deep fake videos?” Suri asked, brows shooting up.

Remi nodded. “At MIT, I was part of a research team that worked on AI and media. We learned to create and detect deep fakes. We developed them to test our security systems, to make them smarter against misinformation.”

“You’re saying that you were part of a program that literally created deep fakes to protect against misinformation? Pretty much the exact reason we were creating the experiment in the first place?” Suri asked. “That seems like an odd coincidence.”

“Why would I create a video that does nothing but humiliate me? And if I did, why would I be sitting here telling you about it?” Remi asked, looking at Suri like she was insane.

“He’s got a point,” West said.

Boone didn’t blame him. This was all starting to feel like a very targeted attack. But against who…and why? Also…how?

“Okay, well, if nobody else in the school but Remi has the ability to create these deep fakes in record time, how would an outsider gain access to our unhackable system?” Mac asked.

Remi grimaced. “If they planted a backdoor in the system, anyone on the outside could just waltz right in whenever they wanted. They’d have access to security cameras, encrypted files, student information. Whatever you keep on those servers in there.”

“Those servers are air-gapped,” West said. “They don’t connect to any network. If someone wanted to access that data, they’d need to gain access to the servers themselves. Whatever they wanted must be on the school’s servers.”

“Or they just didn’t know they couldn’t access whatever information is beyond those doors,” Suri said.

“You said ‘they,’” Mac said suddenly, looking at Remi. “If they planted a backdoor in our system, who would ‘they’ be?”

“Yeah, and why would any server have a backdoor if it allows a hacker to waltz into our house and do anything they like?” Archer asked.

“There are lots of reasons backdoors exist in a system,” West said, looking ten years older than when the conversation started. “Some are intentional for things like software updates. We don’t do that for numerous reasons, the first being the sensitive information on those servers back there.”

“Others are created with malicious intent where someone gains access to our servers and then creates a door for them to return without tripping any alarms,” Remi explained.

“And then there’s the accidental kind where a developer could have inadvertently left a test script in the production environment that could be exploited to gain unauthorized access,” West added.

“Which was this?” Suri asked.

“Hard to say just yet,” West said. “I’ll work with Remi and see if we can figure it out. I doubt he feels like going to class today anyway, and this will go faster with two of us searching for anomalies.”

“I still don’t quite understand how this could happen,” Boone muttered. “What does it mean if this backdoor is wide open? That they can still come and go as they please?”

“Theoretically, yes, but we’ll find it and close it permanently,” West promised. “In the meantime, maybe we need to tell the students what’s happening.”

“Why?” Archer asked.

“What do you mean, why?” Mac said, looking at his husband like he was crazy. “There’s a crazy person out there exposing secrets. You don’t think the student body deserves to know?”

“Someone in the student body could be our bad guy,” Archer countered. “I think we should let it play out for a bit.”

“At what cost?” Suri asked. “If that video of Remi was their jumping off point, what do you think is going to happen next?”

“You’re both right,” Remi said quietly. “They’re not gonna stop. They’re enjoying themselves. And, weirdly, I don’t think it was personal. I don’t think they were after me specifically. They just saw an opportunity and took it.”

Suri’s brows shot up. “That’s a bold assumption. You seem to know a lot more information than the average student. You could very well have been a target. I think it would be unwise to just assume you were collateral damage.”

Remi leaned back in the chair. “There’s a chance that whoever this is has been playing around in our system for a really long time. The hacker said they were one of us, a fellow student, so let’s just see what they do. If they think we’re clueless—which, as far as I know, we are—they’ll get bolder. The cockier they are, the more likely they are to make a mistake, right?”

“Exactly,” Archer said, beaming at Remi, who blushed and looked away.

Boone sighed. “I think this is a bad idea. But I don’t have a better one yet, so we’ll just go with this one…for now.”

It was on the tip of Boone’s tongue to ask Remi which parts of the video were real and which were the deep fake, but he wasn’t going to ask him to disclose being assaulted in front of an audience. He owed him that much privacy. Besides, there was a chance West would ask once the two of them were alone.

“Let’s let them work,” Boone finally said, standing, then gesturing towards the door. “Don’t you have classes to teach?”

They all nodded, grumbling as they headed to the exit.

Boone left Remi and West, heading towards his office. He had some phone calls to make.

Again.

At the rate they were fucking up, there was a very good chance this program would get shut down before the end of the year. Boone didn’t even want to think about what would happen to all of them—staff and students—should that happen.

The scenarios were all grim to say the least.

Boone returned to his office, slipping inside before leaning against the door and closing his eyes, his head thumping softly against the wood as he relished the quiet. Why did he agree to take this job? He’d been so close to retirement. He could be sitting on a beach somewhere doing…whatever it was people on beaches did. Instead, he was there, playing games with someone hellbent on destroying his students.

In any other situation, Boone could have picked them out in a second. For two decades, coaxing the truth out of psychopaths had been so much of his job. But in a school full of them? He didn’t have the time. Hell, he didn’t have the energy. They should have left his whole job to someone much younger. Or at least someone less jaded.

A headache brewed just behind his eyes, the once dull pressure becoming a steady bass beat, making his temples throb. He wanted to curl up in bed with a bottle of ibuprofen, but instead he would spend his afternoon trapped on the phone with higher-ups for the second time in a week. This might actually be the thing they fired him for. The idea should have thrilled him…except leaving the Watch meant he’d never see?—

“I was starting to think you were skipping school, Daddy.”

Boone’s eyes flew open, falling to the boy slouched in his office chair, school uniform deliberately askew to show off the triangle of skin just beneath his throat, one leg tossed over the armrest like he was a bored royal.

Boone swallowed audibly.

Why did he have to look like that? Like pure sin? There was a look of quiet determination and menace in the boy’s eyes, one that sent a shiver of unease down Boone’s spine.

Boone was too weak for this today. Did Payton sense it? Were his spidey senses telling him this was the day to pounce? Today was the day Boone would be too weak to refuse him? Maybe it was just wishful thinking on Boone’s part. It would be so much easier if he didn’t have to decide.

“I’m not in the mood, Payton,” he lied warily.

He stayed where he was, keeping a safe distance between them, but it was impossible not to look. Payton was just so appealing even when he wasn’t trying. Hell, especially when he wasn’t trying. The whole world saw it. Men. Women. Designers. Photographers. Artists. Payton wasn’t conventionally attractive, but that only made him more interesting. His features were configured in a way that shouldn’t have worked but did, like he’d been blessed by the universe.

It was dangerous to make someone so alluring. Boone couldn’t get enough of those freckles or that too-wide smile or his heavy brows and wild hair. Payton had not been designed to blend in. Maybe that was why he starred in Boone’s fantasies every night.

A slow smile crept along Payton’s face like he could read Boone’s mind. He really was pathetic. An old man lusting after someone half his age. But Payton made him weak, turned him into the biggest fool. He’d only survived this long by avoiding him at all costs. But now, he understood that Payton had just been playing with him, letting him think he had it all under control, humoring him while he lured him into some false sense of security.

Nobody was ever truly safe with Payton Skinner. Boone was an idiot to think otherwise. What would the boy do if Boone refused him? If he said no and told him to leave? Could he say it with enough conviction for either of them to believe it? Probably not. It didn’t matter. Boone wouldn’t do it. Hell, he couldn’t do it. His only hope was an impromptu visit from staff or another student that might put a third party between them.

And everyone else was in class.

The smile disappeared from Payton’s face as he looked Boone over like he was a new toy he’d just purchased. “Lock the door.”

Boone’s cock twitched at the authority in Payton’s voice. Alarm bells were wailing in his head. Red flags and warning signs and an ominous voice telling him to turn back before it was too late. But none of it mattered. Boone was in a small boat heading towards a deadly waterfall, and instead of trying to change his trajectory, he was rowing faster towards it, ready to hurl himself over the side. Maybe it would mitigate some of the damage or maybe the fall would be deadly.

It was hard to say. All he knew was the sight of this boy had his dick hard the moment he’d noticed his presence. Still, he owed it to the school to at least pretend he still had some self control.

“I don’t think locking myself in here with a student is a very good look,” he reasoned softly.

Payton stood, then stretched, the two halves of his button-down parting at the bottom to reveal a light dusting of hair beneath his belly button that disappeared below sinfully tight pants. Payton smirked when he saw where Boone looked, tugging his tie even looser but not removing it.

Boone watched, hypnotized, as Payton meandered towards him, hips swaying in a movement he could only define as serpentine. He had a grace Boone had never possessed at his advanced height.

Once Payton stood before him, he placed his hand on his torso, pushing up the fabric to show off his taut belly.

“It’s okay,” he taunted. “You can touch.”

Boone itched to take him up on the offer. He wanted to touch, to taste, to devour. He wanted to know what it would take to make Payton fall apart. His fingers spasmed at his sides as he warred with himself. Touching him would shatter the last tiny sliver of his remaining resolve.

Payton had no such compunction. He pressed his palms to Boone’s chest, the warmth of his skin bleeding through his shirt. When he reached his shoulders, he pushed his jacket off, letting it pool on the floor at their feet.

“Payton—” he warned.

Boone’s heart skipped as Payton leaned into him, his cock throbbing as he heard the snick of the lock falling into place. With that done, Payton stood on his tiptoes to press his lips against Boone’s ear. “A locked door is better than getting caught with your dick in a student’s throat. No?”

Boone’s breath left in a rush through his nose as Payton cupped his cheek, making eye contact before he kissed his jaw, his chin, the skin just beneath. Boone just let him. Payton seemed in no hurry, running his nose along Boone’s throat, pressing his mouth to the skin behind his ear.

Boone kept waiting for the other shoe to drop, for Payton’s lips to find his, for a spark to ignite into something wild and violent, so it could sputter out just as quickly. But he should have known better. When Payton’s lips did find his, they were soft and searching. Boone let him take that, too, opening his mouth so easily, bending to the will of someone barely old enough to drink.

Payton’s tongue slipped inside, coaxing Boone into a deeper kiss, something a little raw, a little desperate, his arms winding around his neck, drawing him in. Each time they pulled away, something dragged them right back together, each kiss slowly building until they were clutching at each other.

Boone was losing this fight, drowning in the want growing in his core. He’d never felt so greedy for someone before. No matter how much Payton gave, it wasn’t enough. Boone was all take, take, take. His skin was scalding, the scent of Payton making him crazy. Was this really happening or was he in bed dreaming?

This was too much. It was too real, too overwhelming. Like he was losing himself to this boy. Payton already had so much power over his thoughts, and now, he was taking his body. He gripped the boy’s hips, spinning them, slamming Payton up against the door, gripping his face and feeding on his lips hungrily. Boone’s cock drooled as Payton spread his legs, dragging Boone to step between them, moaning into his mouth as his cock met Boone’s thigh.

The tiny sliver of rationality he’d clung to thus far fell away in an instant. Payton gripped his face, still controlling the kiss. Only this time it was exactly as Boone pictured: wet, hungry, desperate. Payton biting at his lips, sucking on his tongue. Giving him the brutality he’d all but demanded.

Payton kissed him like he was ravenous, like he was the air he breathed. The wet sounds of their lips meeting and parting had pleasure licking at his insides. All this just from a few kisses. It was crazy. Boone had never wanted anyone like he did Payton.

Hands pressed against Boone’s chest, fingers digging into the muscles there. It took longer than it should have for Boone to realize Payton was shoving him away. He stumbled back, an apology dying on his lips as Payton fell to his knees, flicking his gaze upward.

He looked so perfect like this, staring up at Boone with wide eyes and messy hair, generous mouth swollen and spit-slick. He was like something out of a porn movie. Student and professor. Boone’s own personal fantasy brought to life. His cock throbbed with awareness, aching for Payton to touch him.

“Payton…”

“If you don’t want my mouth on you, just say red,” Payton said. “It’s the only way I’m stopping.”

They stared each other down, Boone’s ragged breaths loud in the otherwise quiet room. When it was clear Boone wouldn’t protest further, Payton worked his belt open, the clink gunshot loud in his guilt-ridden mind. He made short work of freeing Boone from his pants, tipping forward to mouth at the outline of his cock through his underwear.

How long had it been since Boone had been with anyone? A year? Fuck, maybe more. He was probably going to come in six seconds and embarrass himself. Payton moaned low, nuzzling his nose against him, pressing his tongue to the wet fabric over his tip, moaning like he could taste him.

“Christ,” Boone managed.

Payton hooked his thumbs in Boone’s underwear, dragging them down to mid-thigh, another needy sound escaping as he took in Boone’s cock. “Fuck, you really are…proportionate.”

“Payton,” Boone managed tightly, feeling like a wire on the verge of snapping.

Payton gave him a pissy look, then pinched his thigh until he hissed. “If you can’t say my name nicely, I’m going to ban you from saying it at all.”

Boone stared at him in disbelief, but Payton was staring at Boone’s cock—staring at the pearly drops of fluid gathering there. He gripped the base, then leaned forward to suck the tip into the wet cavern of his mouth, releasing another satisfied moan like it was Boone sucking him and not the other way around.

“Fuck me…” Boone’s words were a gasping whisper, eyelids fluttering at the feel of Payton’s soft tongue digging into his slit, like he craved more of Boone’s taste.

“We’ll get there,” Payton taunted, pulling his hand free to spit in his palm before wrapping it back around his thick cock and jerking Boone slowly. “Don’t think I won’t make you bend me over every piece of furniture in this office before I graduate.”

Before Boone could formulate any coherent response, Payton swallowed him down, lips stretching lewdly around him. Boone’s hands jerked to Payton’s head instinctively, fingers tangling tight enough to make him whine, arousal building in his core.

He fell forward, his hand landing heavy on the door behind Payton, needing something to ground himself, afraid his knees might buckle. The motion forced his cock deeper, causing the boy to choke wetly. Boone opened his mouth to apologize, but Payton placed his hand on top of Boone’s where it tangled in his hair. It took longer than it should have for Boone’s lust-addled brain to figure out that Payton wanted him to use him, to fuck his throat.

“I don’t think…”

Payton pulled off him with a wet pop. “Don’t think. Just do. Are you afraid your monster cock is going to hurt me or something?” he taunted.

Boone rolled his eyes. He was, a little, yeah. Payton was right. Boone was…proportional. Not “monster cock” size as Payton implied, but definitely longer and thicker than the average human’s throat could accommodate comfortably.

“Oh, my God. You really are worried. That’s so cute,” Payton said, sounding genuinely delighted by this turn of events. His lips spread into a devious smile. “Come on, Daddy. I’ve been making your life a living hell for months. Now’s your chance to teach me a lesson.” That smile became an exaggerated pout, his tone simpering. “Punish me. I’ve been bad.”

Boone growled in frustration, but gripped the base of his cock, feeding it back between Payton’s lips, biting off another pathetic sound as he watched those lips stretch taut around him. Payton moaned around him as Boone pulled back, then thrust forward. His mouth was incredible. The sound was obscene. It felt like heaven. Anyone walking too closely to Boone’s office would know exactly what Boone was doing to the boy.

That should have killed his boner, but it only spurred him on. He gripped Payton’s hair tight, holding him still as he started to fuck his mouth. He worked himself deeper with each roll of his hips, trying not to blow his load every time Payton’s velvety tongue dragged along the underside of his cock. How was he so good at this? Honestly, Boone didn’t want to know. He couldn’t handle thinking of Payton on his knees like this for anyone else. He was Boone’s. Boone’s to fight with. Boone’s to fuck.

Payton whimpered, his hands curling around Boone’s ass, nails digging into the rounded muscle, attempting to pull him even closer.

“Look at me,” Boone managed, voice like sandpaper. Payton’s gaze flicked to his, his hand sliding down to palm at his own cock over his pants. “No touching,” Boone snapped. He wanted to be the one to make Payton come.

Payton’s eyes widened, but he obediently removed his hand, this time placing it on Boone’s thigh.

Just the sight of Payton had him hurtling towards his orgasm embarrassingly fast. “Fuck, I’m not going to last.”

Payton whined around him, his look so vulnerable and needy Boone almost came right there on the spot.

He fucked into Payton’s throat harder and faster, groaning each time he choked, the muscles contracting around his cock squeezing perfectly. Wetness formed in Payton’s eyes, spilling free, tracking mascara and liner down his cheeks. It shouldn’t have been so hot, but it was. Payton Skinner, psychopath and mass murderer, on his knees for Boone, getting his throat fucked raw, tears and snot running down his pretty face.

“I’m gonna come,” he warned, attempting to pull back.

Payton made a noise of protest, gripping Boone’s ass tighter, holding him where he was. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. His thrusts grew sloppy, that coil twisting tighter and tighter inside him until he couldn’t stop himself from fucking his cock past Payton’s lips into the tight squeeze of his throat. He heard Payton gagging, could see the saliva pouring from the corners of his mouth. Boone didn’t know which of them was enjoying themselves more.

Payton dug his nails in, dragging them down Boone’s flesh hard enough to draw blood, moaning like a whore around his cock. That was all it took. Boone’s pleasure slammed into him like a freight train, practically taking his knees out from under him as he spilled onto Payton’s tongue.

Payton sucked every last drop from him, then pulled off, licking him clean until Boone winced from oversensitivity. When he looked down at Payton, the boy opened his mouth, cheekily showing him his cum before swallowing exaggeratedly.

Boone dragged him to his feet once more, shoving him back against the door where they’d started, capturing his mouth in a soul-searing kiss, sucking the taste of himself from Payton’s tongue. He could feel how hard the boy was, but when he went to unbuckle his belt, Payton slapped his hand away.

“Uh-uh. No time for that. I have to go to class.”

Boone blinked at him. “But…you’re going…like that?” He stared pointedly at the boy’s erection.

Payton ignored Boone’s question, tucking him back into his underwear and zipping his pants, helping him fix his clothing before attempting to fix his own.

“This was about you,” Payton said. “You’ve had a rough week.”

That was the understatement of the year. “But I want?—”

Payton cut him off with a smack on the lips. “You can make it up to me tonight.”

Boone frowned. “Tonight?”

Payton nodded. “Your room. After dinner. We can shower together.”

Boone’s head was spinning. “I’m not sure?—”

Payton cut him off again. “Silly Daddy. You don’t get to make decisions anymore. We tried that. We’re doing things my way from now on.”

“Your way?” Boone echoed.

“Mm,” Payton said cryptically.

“What exactly is your way?”

Payton rose up on tiptoe to kiss Boone once more, gently this time. “Don’t worry. My tight little ass is all yours. Just ‘cause I’m in charge doesn’t mean I don’t want you to rail me.”

Rail him?

“Rail…”

Payton rolled his eyes. “Stop repeating everything I say.”

Boone snapped his mouth shut.

“I’ve been really patient with you, but honestly, for someone who spent twenty years as an assassin and a spy, you’re kind of a mess. You need someone to take care of you. Someone who tells you what to do and when. I was born for that job.”

Boone stared at him, mind reeling before he thought to say, “You think I’ll just let you take over my life?”

His lack of conviction was embarrassing.

Payton met his gaze. “Yes. In fact, I bet in a couple of hours, you’ll be jerking off just thinking about it.”

Boone snorted. “That’s not gonna ha?—”

Payton waved a hand, silencing him. “When you do—jerk off, I mean—take a video and send it to me.”

“No fucking way.”

Payton slapped his cheek just hard enough to make a sound. “That wasn’t a request, Daddy.” He smoothed his hand down his shirt. “How do I look?” Boone opened his mouth to answer, but Payton put a finger over his lips. “That was a rhetorical question. I always look good.”

With that, he was gone, leaving Boone standing there feeling like a tornado had just picked him up and thrown him into an alternate universe. A universe where Payton Skinner had taken control of Boone’s life.

What the hell had he just done?